Jessica slipped her small hand into Francis’s large warm one. “I must go to Mass,” she told him in her lovely low voice.
Francis gave her cold fingers a little squeeze. “Whyfore, sweetheart? You have done nothing wrong. A kiss or two is no sin,” he added with a smile. It was a good thing she could not read his mind for he had harbored much more lusty thoughts throughout the night.
Jessica shook her head, then adjusted her hood over her glorious hair, now charmingly disarrayed from hours of dancing. “It is not any wrongdoing of last night that prompts me,” she replied, hurrying toward the large double doors of the church. “There are things I must atone for that are far past.” She spoke with a quiet firmness that suffered no argument. “You need not accompany me.”
Francis adjusted his hat more firmly on his head. “Not so, little one. I will see you safely home. Besides…” He glanced at the black mourning band that he still wore around his left arm. “I should pray for my grandfather.”
She looked up at him. “Was he a good man?”
Francis smiled at the memory of his larger-than-life grandsire. “Sì, he taught all of his children to love God first—and hunting second.” The pain of remembrance did not stab him as sharply this morning as it had a few weeks ago when Jobe had first brought him the doleful news.
Jessica smiled. “I wish I had met this fine gentleman. Come, let us remember him in our prayers.”
Francis held open the heavy door for her. He breathed in the odor of stale mustiness, hot wax and lingering incense that seemed to thrive inside every cathedral he had ever visited. He scanned the gilded mosaics above them. Large-eyed saints stared back. Inside this church was a celebration of beauty that had been static and dead for hundreds of years. Outside was the celebration of beauty that lived for the moment. If truth be told, Francis much preferred the open piazza to this dark house of God.
Following Jessica’s lead, he knelt on the uneven stones and tried to pay attention to the divine service. Fatigue settled over him. His eyes burned from lack of sleep. He stifled a number of yawns and thought of his bed—with Jessica lying naked beside him. He shook himself awake and apologized to the Lord for his weakness.
When they emerged once again into the piazza, the new day had already arrived, cloaked in a dank fog that shrouded the far side of the square. Tossing her head back, Jessica inhaled deeply.
“What a wonderful night, Francis! Thank you so much for showing me such amazing sights. To think—I have lived all my life in Venice and have never known such pleasures existed.” She looped her arm through his. “I feel new born, thanks to you.”
Francis smiled down at her. He was glad that he had accomplished what Jobe had suggested. He knew that he would never forget this wonderful night, either. Concern mixed with anger as Jessica’s unknown danger rippled down his spine. He drew her closer under his cloak. “Let us prolong this pleasant interlude a little longer.” He pointed to the Mole where several dozen sleek gondolas bobbed on the Grand Canal. “I will return you to your home in the style of a lady—not as a serving maid.”
She stared at the boats. “In faith, I have rarely ridden in a gondola. We can reach my house faster if we walk through the back streets. You have spent far too much money on me as it is.”
Francis signaled to one of the gondoliers. “What good is money but to spend? My purse is unlocked for you.” Thank heavens, Lord Cecil could not see how his money was spent.
Francis helped her descend into the boat. She gripped his hand tighter when the vessel rocked with her weight. The gondolier steadied the craft until Francis joined her on the red plush cushions inside the felze.
Francis drew the thick black curtains of the gondola’s tiny cabin around them, shutting out the pale rays of the rising sun. “This will turn day back to night for a little while.” Then he covered them both with his warm cloak and gathered her in his arms.
Jessica giggled nervously. “Would you ravish a woman so soon after attending Holy Mass?” she bantered.
In a heartbeat. His desire quickened. He took her fingers and kissed each one in turn, then pressed a lingering kiss on her palm. She shivered—from the thrill of his touch, he hoped, and not from the cold. “May I have your gracious permission to kiss you once more, cara mia?”
She giggled again. “Indeed, for I think you are doing too much talking with those lips.” She laid her head on his chest and looked up at him. Expectation and laughter filled the vast pools of her dark eyes. “And not enough of other things.” She curled herself against his hip.
Francis needed no further urging. His lips brushed against hers before she had finished speaking. Jessica returned his kiss with a hunger that belied her calm demeanor. Parting her lips, she welcomed his tongue. The caress of her mouth set him aflame. His pulse throbbed in his temples.
Raising his head from her intoxicating fountain, he traced his fingertip across her love-swollen lips. “You are a temptress, madonna. You push a man to the brink of good sense.”
She gazed up at him, her brown eyes misty with desire. “I fear I have misplaced my good sense somewhere in the piazza,” she whispered.
Francis ground his teeth. If ever he had wanted to make love with a woman, it was here and now within the narrow confines of the silent skimming gondola. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. His loins grew tight and hot, straining against his codpiece. Yet he recognized Jessica’s innocence at this stage of their love-play. Taking her now, no matter how much she thought she wanted it, would be a selfish act. A rocking boat in the middle of the Grand Canal with a gondolier as a witness was a knavish place for the initiation of such a sweet virgin as Jessica. Francis had called himself a great many names over the years but “brute” would never be one of them.
Before love, there must be a measure of trust. He ran his finger just under the line of her mask. “Will you remove this, cara?” he asked. “I promise that I will not take anything amiss.”
Though he had phrased his question in the gentlest manner he knew, he broke the spell. She sat up and turned away from him. “You ask too much,” she said in a choked voice.
Cursing his clumsy tongue, he asked, “Are you still afraid of me? Do you think I would be untrue?”
Jessica faced him once more. The sheen of tears filmed her eyes. “You are the truest man that I have ever met. For that reason particularly, I dare not reveal what is hidden. Your eyes would find it hateful,” she answered, keeping all emotion out of her voice. “And your heart.”
He took her limp hand in his and kissed it with deep reverence. “The truth is never hateful,” he replied.
Her lips parted in a stiff smile. “Isn’t it?” she retorted. “Isn’t the truth that you try to hide from yourself also hateful?”
As surely as if she had stabbed him with a dagger, her question shot a bolt of pain through him. He looked down at her hand that he held within his. How could he explain the emptiness inside him? The gnawing need for an identity? An overwhelming desire to find his own place in the world? He could barely understand these things himself. All he knew was loathing for what he was now with no hope for the future. His mother had wrecked his chance for happiness seven years ago when she had told him the name of his true father—a man Francis knew would never accept him as his son. For the sake of harmony within the Cavendish family, Francis kept the shameful truth to himself.
When he did not answer her question, Jessica continued, “You see? You have your secret and I have mine.”
He sighed, then gave a resigned shrug. “Sì, madonna.” His torment twisted in the pit of his stomach. “Forgive me for breaking our good cheer.” He kissed her hand again. “Let us not part with lukewarm words and sour looks. Our time together is too precious.”
She stared at him for a breathless moment before she nodded. She kissed his hand in return. “Hold me, Francis, for a great coldness wraps around my heart.”
He held out his arms to her and she lay down with him again. They said nothing more f
or the rest of their journey. Francis wished he knew how to banish all of their cares forever. He tightened his embrace and softly kissed the top of her head. A long sigh escaped her.
The gondolier rapped on the roof of the felze, startling his passengers. “Ponte San Felice, messere,” the young man announced. “We have arrived at your destination.”
“Grazie,” Francis called up to him. “Give us one moment more.”
The gondolier chuckled. “All the time in the world, my lord.”
Francis framed Jessica’s masked face between his large hands. “This night will last a lifetime in my memory, cara mia. I thank you for it.”
“And I,” she replied in a fragile voice. “This night is already engraved in gold upon my heart. You have given me much happiness. I can never repay you.”
“You can,” he whispered, “with one last kiss.” Crushing her to him, he pressed his lips to hers, caressing her mouth more than kissing it.
Moaning in the back of her throat, she twined her hands around his neck, giving herself freely to the passion of his kiss. He tasted her, savored her, impressed her in the depths of his heart before he finally released her. He allowed Jessica a moment to pull herself together before he flung open the curtains. Both of them blinked in the brilliant sunlight. The morning fog had burned away.
Francis helped her alight on the quayside but when he started to follow her to her house, she smiled and shook her head. Without a word of explanation, she turned and ran lightly across the little square. Francis watched until he saw her disappear behind her blue door. Then he climbed back into the boat.
“To the sign of the Sturgeon by the Rialto Bridge,” he told the gondolier. He yawned as the high silver-capped prow swung away from the landing.
I am truly fortune’s bastard.
Sophia was upon Jessica before she had a chance to remove her cloak and mask. “Well?” the little woman asked with sparkling eyes. “Up so early or going abed so late?”
Jessica leaned against the wall and yawned. A smile played on her lips and twinkled in her eyes. “Do not chide me, Sophia. I have been dancing in Paradise.”
Sophia chuckled. “Has Lord Bardolph proclaimed his love for you yet?”
Jessica tossed her a frown. “You are wool-gathering, Sophia. I am not such a silly goose to believe that I am anything more to the gentleman than a passing whim.”
Sophia narrowed her eyes. “Did he misuse you?” I’ll cut out his heart myself if he has.
With a smile, Jessica shook her head. “On the contrary, he was as perfect in his manners as any man could be.” She giggled and blushed.
Sophia’s heart swelled with gladness. How she had longed for Jessica to be merry and to taste of the delights of love! Clearly the girl was smitten. Who wouldn’t be if they had spent the entire night in the company of so handsome and so charming a swain as Lord Bardolph?
Jessica yawned again. “Do I have any patients this morning?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.
Sophia thought for a moment. “Only old Gippetto who needs more ointment for his sore knees. I can attend to that myself. You go seek your bed. By my soul, you are no good to me or anyone else when you are almost asleep standing up. Away with you!”
For once, Jessica did not protest. Still yawning, she stumbled toward the narrow staircase.
Sophia hesitated for a moment before she asked, “Did you take off your mask?”
Jessica paused at the foot of the stairs. “He asked, but I…I could not. Let him think well of me for a little longer.”
Sophia came up behind her. “Child, he should know the truth. If he is an honest gentleman, he will not think less of you.”
Jessica shook her head. “This has all been a dream. A sudden pleasurable moment in the night. I do not want to wake up just yet.” She leaned over and kissed Sophia on her apple cheek. “Let me store up a lifetime of sweet memories now. I know he will soon be gone.” With a little sigh, she climbed the stairs.
Sophia stared after her and whispered a prayer to any saint that might give a kind glance to sweet Jessica. The child was ripe for marriage and she needed a gentle but strong man who would love and protect her from the hurtful outside world. The Good Lord knew that Sophia and Gobbo were not getting any younger. Once they were gone who would care for Jessica? Certainly not that cold fish of a father!
Thinking of Doctor Leonardo reminded Sophia of the chest under Jessica’s bed, but she hated to disturb her now. Let the child sleep wrapped in sweet dreams of her handsome gentleman. There would be plenty of time later to tell Jessica about her father’s visit. In the meanwhile the chest and its mysterious contents were quite safe where they were.
Jessica lay on a cloak of rose damask—naked. Her raven hair fanned out on a scarlet pillow and her rosy lips parted with anticipation as she held out her arms to Francis. Though her features were still covered with her mask, the shapely beauty of her body and the low, bell tones of her voice tantalized him. The gondola rocked on the placid lagoon when he dropped down beside her and took her in his arms. The rising sun sent streaks of orange and pinks dancing along the ripples in the water and bathing the lovers with blessings of the new morn.
Her ivory skin felt like silk under his wandering fingertips. She purred with pleasure as he slipped his hand down the curve of her hips. She gasped with delight when he cupped her firm rounded bottom.
Francis dipped his head and suckled first one dusky nipple then the other, teasing them into taut buds. Jessica arched her back, begging him for more. He laved the hardened peaks with the tip of his tongue, savoring her taste as he would a sugar cone. Moaning, she gripped his shoulders, pulling him to her. Her soft breasts flattened against his bare chest sending him into an upward spiral of pleasure. As he roused her passion, his own grew stronger.
Kissing her, he whispered his love for her. She answered with sweet words of her love for him. At first, his kiss was as tender and as gentle as a summer’s light breeze. His lips feather-touched hers with gentle persuasion. Parting her lips, she enticed him to a deeper intimacy. He could not resist but took her mouth with a savage intensity. She responded in kind, pressing herself against him.
Francis skimmed his hands down both sides of her body to her thighs. She shuddered with her delight and moaned when he touched her most intimate core. She was moist and ready for him. Jessica whimpered and writhed as he coaxed her into the ascending heights of passion. With her head thrown back and her eyes closed, she clasped him and cried out for release. When he brought her to the zenith of fulfillment, she gasped and shattered into a million golden stars.
“Oh, Lord Bardolph!” she cried.
“Call me Francis,” he commanded, his throat raw with his need for her.
She shook his shoulder. “Lord Bardolph,” she repeated, this time more insistent.
He eased himself between her golden thighs. “Francis,” he entreated. He poised himself to plunge within her honey depths….
“Lord Bardolph, messere, awake!” Someone shook his shoulder more roughly.
Francis bolted upright amid the shambles of his bedding. His heart thudded against his sweating chest. “What the devil?” he shouted.
The inn’s tapboy jumped back as if he had touched a firebrand. “Your pardon, my lord, but there is a lady downstairs come to see you.”
Francis scrubbed the sleep from his face and cursed the boy for waking him in the middle of a most pleasurable dream. “What lady?” he growled, swinging his long legs over the bed frame.
The tapboy shrugged. “I know not. She is masked and did not give her name.”
His foul mood lightened. “A pretty lady?” he asked, pulling on his hose.
The child nodded. “To be sure, my lord.”
Jessica! his heart sang. His senses tingled with the memory of his erotic dream. She had come to him—and in broad daylight. He hurriedly donned his shirt and doublet. No need to tie up his laces when he had every hope of discarding his clothing within the coming hour. He ran
his fingers through his limp hair and prayed that Jessica would not take it too amiss that he had not yet shaved.
“What is the time?” he asked. He rinsed out his mouth with some water from the pitcher. He wished he had some mint leaves to chew.
“Past noon,” replied the boy. “Nearer to one, I think.”
“Hoy day!” Francis muttered as he hunted for his felt mules.
Just then the door opened, revealing the lady in question.
Chapter Twelve
Everything about Francis deflated—his good spirits, his ardor, his manhood. Even before she removed her mask, he recognized Cosma. His heart sank to the soles of his feet.
The tapboy looked from Francis to Cosma then back to Francis. “Shall I bring up some refreshment, my lord?”
Before Cosma could open her rouged mouth, Francis shook his head. “No need, lad. Thank you. Now be gone and shut the door.”
The young messenger nodded then scurried out, banging the door behind him.
Once they were alone, Cosma bestowed one of her sultry, catlike smiles upon him. Then she dropped her cloak and pirouetted for his inspection. Her high-waisted dress of gold tissue fell in soft folds around her ripe body. Her low neckline with its tiny white ruffle barely concealed her jutting nipples. Gold fringe edged her hemline that rose to knee level, revealing a scandalous expanse of her legs encased in sheer white stockings. Gold satin roses decorated her garters and shoe tops. Her auburn hair was piled high in fashionable ringlets with strings of pearls twined through her locks. Her heavy perfume of damask roses filled the room. Cosma had used every art at her command to enhance her endowments. Every revealing inch of her proclaimed that she had invaded his sanctuary with seduction in mind.
Cosma’s wanton display turned Francis even colder. How completely artificial she looked compared to Jessica’s natural beauty! “Forgive me,” he said through tight lips. “I was asleep when you arrived.”
Cosma’s feline smile widened. “Then let us return to your sheets,” she purred, “and I will give you dreams of paradise.” She moved toward his rumpled bed.
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